Silver wings in Arda (english)
by minouuu974
Summary: She doesn't know how she came here. Looking at all she lived throught, since the attack on West Harbor to the Betrayer's Curse, She thought she has seen it all. Almost. Seriously, she should try her hand at exorcism. Then, perhaps trouble will stop to find her. Even Boromir seems to agree.
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer:**_Neither _Lord of the ring_ nor _Neverwinter Night_ are mine.

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_**Silver wings in Arda**_

**Prologue**

They call me _Kalach-cha_, meaning shard-bearer. Personally, I'd prefer that they call me by my name: _Nema. _Not that one is nicer than the other, but rather because _Kalach-cha_ is a name bound by many memories. More are bad rather than good.

The forest around me is beautiful, and put me at peace. I am no druid, but like one, I keep a link with Nature. One of the many plus of being a ranger.

The beats of two powerful wings tell me that my griffin, _Cehlron_, is coming back from his hunt. The feeling of satisfaction that I feel through the mind link that bind me to him tell me that the hunt was good. One buck and three rabbits. No horse.

One less equine disappearance to explain, and I thank Selune, Lady of the Night.

Selune know how I despise when Cehlron hunt the horses. The troubles coming to me next are worse than a dragon that I have to kill.

And man, did I kill dragons.

The sun is ready to set, and I ready myself to set up the camp. The woods are thick without being stifling, and the weaver is good. The twilight is a moment which can bring serenity, excitation, or fear. A little bit like the night, I guess. I really don't know where I am, and the awakening stars don't form any figures that I can recognize. Only one moon is rising in the sky, and not two, like they do in _Faerun_, my homeland. My map, now unusable, is put back in my bag. _Cehlron_ is fidgeting, and the pressure around me is beginning to make itself heavy. I pack up and take a look around me. The canopy is thick. Perfect.

Nine riders pass under the branch on which I am perched now. Then, they stop. My partner watch them from the sky. I feel his fear. He knows that these riders are strong, and bad. I examine them.

They look like wraiths. Their black cloaks shrouds their figure in the shadow. They wear metal gauntlets and boots. Their steeds are as dark as them, and seems to have taken a trip to the Nine Hells.

I don't consider myself as a coward, and I would long be dead if I was. But I'm not mad, either. If my companions were with me at this instant, then I would surely confront these nine figures. But there is only Cehlron and me.

I'm not suicidal, and I do not think I am able to take on these guys.

Later, perhaps.

I hear a woman's voice. I feel my throat tightening.

_"Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,_

_ Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,_

_ Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,_

_ One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne_

_ In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie._

_ One Ring to rule them all, _

_ One Ring to find them,_

_ One Ring to bring them all _

_ And in the darkness bind them_

_ In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."_

What's happening here, by Selune?

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So? How is it? Constructive criticisms are welcome!


	2. First Feather

**_Autor note :_** Although I said in my profile that my story will not be focused on romance, I will be open for suggestions abut the pairings (and sort ou_t _wether or not I will keep it).

**_Disclaimer_**_ :_ Neither _Lord of the Rings nor Neverwinter Night_ are mine.

**Cehlron talking by mind link**

_**Nema talking by mind link**_

_Nema's POV_

"Talking"

*Telepathy*

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**Silver wings in Arda**

**First Feather**

Sighting for probably the billionth time since they parted from Bree, Aragorn took a look at the four hobbits behind him, asking himself what happened to Gandalf, and what was that old wizard thinking, sending these four on the road.

With all his good will, he couldn't, for the life of him, see them as people who can survive in the wild by themselves. In his eyes, they were no more than mere children.

What was the old wizard thinking indeed?

Resigning himself, he decided to set up camp at the hill of Weathertop. The little ones would not be able to bear one more mile, he decided.

After giving his last instructions, Aragorn was gone, searching for food, or patrolling.

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_It's been a while I'm out there in the wilderness with Cehlron. Since the night we tumbled upon nine wraiths-like creatures, we've been tailing them discreetly, trying to learn more about them. Thought my poor griffin is growling about it._

**Why are you persisting in tailing them? Nothing good can come from them.**

_**It's because of that very fact we're tailing them. I'd rather know more about them and have a chance of having a way to defeat them, than trying to avoid them at all cost, only to die later because of them.**_

**But right now, it's like you're asking for troubles! If you do a good job at avoiding them, you wouldn't have to worry about dying.**

_** Even if you're right, Cehlron, I'd rather not be stuck at avoiding them.**_

**True. Knowing your luck, it would only report the meeting later.**

_**Indeed dear friend. And then, we would be back to square on.**_

**That to-… Nema! The wraiths seems to have found something! They're converging to one direction!**

_**Can you see where they are going?**_

** A hill, with ruins at the top…**

_**Erm… Cehlron…**_

** There are four little figure on it.**

_**Ah… There we go…**_

** They seems to be Halflings… Or children… take your pick…**

_**I'd rather go for Halflings… There better be Halflings… Although the difference between them isn't much usually.**_

_Thanks to Cehlron's directives, I soon come upon the mentioned place._

_ The situation is not pretty. One of the Halfling is down, but still seems to be alive. The other three still seem to be unharmed, but I don't think it will last if I stay idly out of the way._

_I am afraid of these guys. I don't think I can take them on without the others to back me up. But I can't let these little ones fend for themselves, can I?_

_ Well… Time to dance._

_ As I unsheathe the silver blade, the nine wraiths screech. Is that… terror that I hear? Anger?_

_ I feel a smile tugging at my lips, and my own fear turn into excitement._

_**Can you see it, Cehlron? How they fear the sword of Gith?**_

**Feeling a bit smug, don't we?**

_** How I do. Don't you as well, partner?**_

**How can't I? We feared them enough! Let's teach them how to fear US!**

_**Too true.**_

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Aragorn didn't know what to make of the scene unfolding before his eyes. Holding high a silver glowing blade, a lithe, small figure held the nine Ringswraiths back.

Away from the hobbits.

Away from Frodo.

Away from the Ring.

Taking a torch with him, he jumped in the fray. A roar made him look at the sky, and gasp with amazement. Up there was a beast he never encountered before, for its body was that of a proud lion, and its head and its forepaws were those of a great eagle. Two giant wings adorned its shoulders.

He saw the beast dive for one of Sauron's servant, before a flash of silver took his mind back to the battle at hand.

The lithe one was repelling their foes, escaping the incoming blows, striking them back, jumping out of harm's way, and repeat.

They were dancing like the wind would dance in the heart of a storm.

With great fury, unforgiving.

But he had to shake his head out of his daze. The little ones were in danger, and he had sworn to escort them to Rivendell. He will ponder about the stranger and the beast when the Witch King and his goons are taken care of.

He took the task of setting them on fire with his torch.

The stranger seemed to see the effectiveness of that tactic and unsheathed a burning blade which was attached at their hips, along with the empty sheath of the silver blade.

Soon, the nine Ringwraiths were repelled.

The stranger let out a sigh and turned to parry the incoming blade of Aragorn. The grey eyes of the man locked themselves into the silver almost white gaze of the lithe figure.

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No one saw a feather turning silver on an angel's wing.

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**Cehlron: **Aaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnd we're in trouble. Again.

**Nema:** Oh hush Cehlron. It's not _that_ bad.

Get a pointy look from all the neverwinter's crue.

A little grey cat with green eyes and a magician hat appear.

**Cat:** Reviews please?


End file.
